Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [26]
“Congratulations, Anakin, on your victory at Cato Neimoidia.”
“Thank you, sir. But I’m sorry to report that Viceroy Gunray escaped, and that fighting continues in the rock-arch cities.”
Palpatine’s smile faltered. “Yes, I was informed as much.”
It wasn’t the first time Anakin had heard from Palpatine in the field. At Jabiim, Palpatine had ordered Anakin to retreat before the planet fell to the Separatists; at Praesitlyn he had praised Anakin for having saved the day. Still, the communications were often as awkward as they were flattering.
“What’s wrong, my boy?” Palpatine asked. “I sense that you’re troubled about something. If it involves Gunray, accept my word that he won’t be able to hide from us forever. None of them will. One day you’ll have your chance for complete victory.”
Anakin wet his lips. “It’s not about Gunray, sir. Just a small incident here that made me angry.”
“What incident?”
Anakin was tempted to disclose the details of his and Obi-Wan’s discovery, but Yoda had told him to remain silent about the mechno-chair. “Nothing important,” he said. “But I always feel guilty when I become angry.”
“That’s a mistake,” Palpatine said gently. “Anger is natural, Anakin. I thought we’d been through all this—regarding what took place on Tatooine?”
“Obi-Wan doesn’t show anger—except, of course, at me. Even then, it’s more like … aggravation.”
“Anakin, you’re a passionate young man. That’s what separates you from your Jedi comrades. Unlike Obi-Wan and the others, you weren’t raised in the Temple, where younglings are taught to conquer their anger by transcending it. You enjoyed a natural childhood. You can dream, you have imagination and vision. You’re not some unthinking machine, some heartless piece of technology. Not that I’m suggesting that the Jedi are,” Palpatine was quick to add. “But for someone like you, any threat to someone or something important to you is likely to evoke an emotional response. It happened with your mother; it will happen again. But you shouldn’t fight those responses. Learn from them, but don’t fight them.”
Anakin suppressed an impulse to reveal his marriage to Padmé, as well.
“Do you think I’m immune to anger?” Palpatine said into the short silence.
“I’ve never seen you angry.”
“Well, perhaps I’ve grown adept at reserving my anger for private moments. But it grows more difficult to do so, in the face of the frustrations I face with the Senate. With the way this war persists … Oh, I know that you and the other Jedi are doing everything you can … But the Jedi Council and I don’t always see eye-to-eye on how this war should be waged. You know my love for the Republic knows no bounds. That’s why I’m struggling so hard to keep it from falling to pieces.”
Anakin forced a derisive breath. “The Senate should simply follow your lead. Instead, they block you. They tie your hands. It’s as if they envy the power they gave you.”
“Yes, my boy, many do. But many support me, as well. More important, we must abide by the rules and regulations of the Constitution, or else we are no better than those who stand in the way of freedom.”
“Some individuals should be above the rules,” Anakin grumbled.
“A case can be made for it. And, indeed, you are one of those people, Anakin. But you must know when to act, and when not to.”
Anakin nodded. “I understand.” He paused, then said, “How is Coruscant, sir? I miss it.”
“Coruscant is as ever, a shining example of what life could be. But I’m far too busy to indulge in its manifold pleasures.”
Anakin searched for some way to frame the question he needed to ask. “I guess you’ve been meeting frequently with the Loyalist Committee.”
“As a matter of fact, I have. A treasured group of Senators, who value the high standards of the Republic as much as you and I do.” Palpatine smiled. “Senator Amidala, for example. So filled with vigor and compassion—the same qualities she brought to